


What We Carry

by a_nonny_moose



Series: My AU [65]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: A day at the beach, innocent enough.





	What We Carry

Inspired by [**this**](https://reverseblackholeofwords.tumblr.com/post/168764676816/what-if-wilford-tells-anti-some-war-stories-when), by [@reverseblackholeofwords](https://tmblr.co/mRc-68g0wFaNQ_RKmsPx4fw). Happy Blogversary!

A different POV of **[this](https://egoiplier-shenanigans.tumblr.com/post/168457966145/egotober-day-twenty-five-red-man)**.

* * *

“I’m begging you, go change your clothes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re going to get heatstroke,” Dr. Iplier muttered, rolling his eyes. “Wilford, we’re going to the beach, not Siberia.”

“But I _need_ —”

“C’mon, Will!” Bim poked his head into the room, wearing nothing but his swim shorts. Laughing, wiggling his shoulders: “Show a little skin, why don’t you?”

Dr. Iplier crossed his arms, his own swim trunks and shirt more appropriate for the weather, even as Bim giggled. “Will, why do you _need_ that many layers?”

“Uh, sunburn?” Wilford wiggled his mustache, arms held awkwardly outwards, several coats preventing him from putting them down.

Bim stepped into the room quietly, watching Dr. Iplier struggle between hilarity and chagrin. “Take them off, now, or we’re not going.”

Wilford, muttering to himself, started to peel the first coat off. With it came the clinking of metal, and Bim and Dr. Iplier exchanged a look. 

“What’s in your coat, Wilford?”

“Nothing.”

Bim stepped over first, picking up the coat from where Wilford had dropped it, suspiciously heavy, onto the floor. He peeked in the pockets as Wilford glared at him, scandalized, and Dr. Iplier prompted with a wave of his hand.

Bim turned the coat over, shaking it out, and no fewer than half a dozen knives fell from the pockets onto the floor.

“ _Wilford._ ”

“What?” Wilford pulled the next one over his head, and another handful of knives clattered out of his waistband. “Oh, darn, that’ll dull the blades—”

Dr. Iplier rubbed the bridge of his nose as Bim collapsed into a heap of giggles, unapologetic. “You are _not_ bringing those with you.”

“Why not?” Wilford shucked another shirt onto the growing pile of fabric, a shoulder holster and pistol with it. “All of this is entirely necessary for a day of fun, Doc!”

“I—”

Laughing, Bim interrupted before Dr. Iplier could reply, looking as if smoke was about to start pouring from his ears. “Will, uh, I think the Googles and Dark have us covered, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not.” Down the hall, Dark’s signature whisper of wind and smoke, then the sound of a door slamming.

“Well, I think the Googles… have us covered, don’t you?”

Wilford rolled his eyes, finally down to his swimsuit. “Listen, Trimmer, it’s incredibly necessary that I take all of this with me whenever we leave the office.”

“As if.” Dr. Iplier snorted, eyeing the pile of clothes, weapons, and stray ammunition. “Leave all that here, and let’s go, okay?”

“ _One_ knife.”

“Wilford, no.”

Bim scooped the pile of weaponry into his arms, sighing. “I want to go to the beach, and you two arguing isn’t getting us anywhere. Meet me and the Googs in the living room when you’re done, okay?”

“But—”

“Wait--!”

But Bim was already gone, leaving Dr. Iplier with a handful of sunscreen and a very angry Wilford Warfstache.

* * *

Wilford poofed them to the beach in pairs with little incident, and Dr. Iplier took to distributing water bottles. 

“If any of you track sand into the office, I won’t even talk to you,” he warned, throwing a towel and bottle at Bim as he returned, a bucket of water carried between Google_G and Oliver. “I’ll tell _Kathryn_ , you got me?”

The three of them nodded solemnly before turning back to their sandcastle, Oliver already sketching a diagram in the sand.

Google_R handed Dr. Iplier a towel as he returned, a warning light in his eyes. “Do rest, Doctor.”

“Nah, I wanted to talk to Wilford, he thinks I didn’t see the revolver in his bag—”

“Sit.” Google_B looked up, eyes flashing warmly. “You have been overworking yourself, I think.”

“Fair enough,” Dr. Iplier laughed. Under the threat of two killer robots, he stretched out with his towel and a book, benignly borrowed from the Host’s library. It was a shame the Host didn’t come, he mused, flipping the cover open, but then again, they all needed to recharge. Some of them did so at the beach, some at computer terminals, and some in the middle of a forest.

Wilford plopped his hat down on the sand, settling himself next to Dr. Iplier. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Reading, Will. Do you want a book?”

“I’m, uh,” Wilford rubbed the back of his neck, looking out into the waves, “I’m good.”

“It’s pretty good. This one is ‘The Things They Carried,’ b—”

“Hey, Doc!” Bim waved at them from beyond the safety of the umbrellas, interrupting. “What do you think?”

Dr. Iplier looked over to see what seemed to be scaffolding made out of seaweed, rising a generous three feet into the air. “Nice, Bim!”

“We’re going to make the best castle,” Bim gasped, packing more sand into a bucket. “Oliver says that we can have glass windows, if we want!”

Oliver, extending his homemade laser from his arm, looked over to see Dr. Iplier frowning at him. Oliver hesitated, looking from Dr. Iplier’s mock glare to Google_G, lining up seashells around their makeshift moat. 

Dr. Iplier shook his head and smiled, glancing towards Google_B, then held a finger to his lips. Oliver’s eyes flashed, and he nodded, hesitant. He carried his upgrades everywhere, a part of him just as much as his circuitry and copper wire. 

Oliver went back to test firing his laser, dewdrops of glass forming on the sand in front of him.

Dr. Iplier sighed before turning back to his book, shaking his head as Bim laughed. Some battles were rarely, if ever, won.

* * *

Google_B and _R sat to the side, eyeing the water and talking, low, more beeps than murmurs. Dr. Iplier looked over, thinking, trying not to catch their eyes. 

“-. . . -.. / - --- / -... . / -.-. .- .-. . ..-. ..- .-..”

“-.. --- -.-. ... / .-.. --- --- -.- .. -. --.”

“Do you need something, Doctor?” Google_B looked over, a smile switched on like a light.

“Just- just thinking,” Dr. Iplier stuttered, going back to his reading. He’d barely turned the page, and it was covered in sand. 

Google_R’s eyes flashed, but he made no comment, going back to beeping with his gaze on the ocean. The Googles had always carried their objectives on their shoulders, Google_B and _R more than the others. Leaders, in a way, and too focused for their own good. It was freeing for Dr. Iplier, at least, to sit and read in the sunlight; for the Googles, it might as well have been another day of babysitting.

For now, Dr. Iplier stretched out on the sand, feeling the heat of the day envelop him. If he was lucky, he’d tan and not burn. 

* * *

Bim looked up from packing wet sand together, Google_G and Oliver taking over constructing the castle entirely. “Hey, Doc, did you see—”

Dr. Iplier was face-down in his book, snoring lightly. Wilford, next to the Doctor with his hat over his face, was already breathing deeply. Bim stifled a smile, elbowing Google_G. “Look.”

Google_G looked away from pressing seashells into the side of their castle, only half-formed, beeping. “Yes?”

“Look how _cute_ they are.”

“Positively adorable.” Google_G turned back to the castle, beeping. “Bim, would you hold this in place, please?”

Bim reached over, pushing a bundle of sticks into place as Google_G wound seaweed around them. “D’you think they’re having fun?”

“The Doctor?”

“And Wilford.” Bim scooted forward, legs covered in sand. He tilted his head, lost in thought. “They work too hard.”

“Indeed they do.” Google_G packed sand over the supports, and Bim drew back. 

“So do you, Green.”

“Hmm?” 

Bim tipped himself back, catching the sun. Oliver, melting sand next to him, looked up. “I mean, you always look out for us.”

Google_G laughed, barely looking up. “Quite the occupation, considering.”

Bim giggled, watching Oliver go back to turning sand into molten liquid. “We’re a lot to carry, Googs.”

Google_G didn’t respond, but instead handed Bim a tiny seashell. Bim, silent, dropped it into the center of the window that Oliver was cooling, as decoration. Oliver scowled, and Bim laughed. Whatever the three of them carried, it had never made them cruel. 

* * *

As the sun started to set, Oliver fit the last of his windows into the castle and proclaimed it, finally, finished. 

Bim poked at Wilford, chest rising and falling slowly. “Will.”

“Mmph.”

“Wake uuuuup.”

“Mm.” Wilford swatted Bim away, his hat sliding off his face. “Wha?”

“Come look at the castle!” Bim took Wilford’s sunglasses, round and mirrored, and put them on. “Please?”

Wilford sat up, grumbling, squinting in the sunlight. He looked over at Google_R and _B, talking in quiet chirps, then at Dr. Iplier, face-down in the sand. “Is he…”

“He’s sleeping,” Bim said, a stage-whisper. 

Wilford grinned, pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket. Bim rolled his eyes, but said nothing as Wilford flipped it open, then shut, then open again. Careful not to wake Dr. Iplier, Wilford rolled out from under their umbrella. “What’s up?”

Bim flung a hand out, showing off the castle, and sang a little fanfare. “Ta-da!”

The castle came up to Google_G’s hip as he leaned over it, sticking a flag into place on the highest turret. Oliver had managed to press windows into place on the walls, and they glittered in the setting sun, seashells embedded around the edges. 

“Impressive,” Wilford muttered, poking at one of the windows. Oliver shot him a glare, and Bim clapped. 

“You like it?”

Wilford nodded, flipping his knife with a sidelong glance at the others. 

“A shame we can’t take it home,” Bim muttered, fixing a crooked shell on the front. “D’you want to help us demolish it, Will?”

“Demolish it?” Wilford’s eyes lit up with an idea, and Oliver looked over. “Nah, Bim, don’t you want to show it off first?”

“I mean, we took pictures—”

“No, I mean something better.”

Dr. Iplier sat up, roused from sleep by the promise of mayhem. “Wilford, I thought you left that at the office.”

Wilford stowed his knife, enthusiasm only ever slightly dampened. “Morning, Doc.”

“Not morning, actually.” Dr. Iplier shaded his eyes, the sun slanting underneath their umbrella. He sighed, brushing sand off his front. “We should head home, it’s getting late.”

“Agreed.” Google_B beeped in affirmation, Google_R already shaking out towels. “Wilford, are you prepared to transport us all home?”

Power, like a mantle, settled itself on Wilford’s shoulders for a moment. “Yeah, I—” He paused, watching Bim start to pick the largest seashells off their castle. “Yeah.”

Dr. Iplier shooed Bim, Google_G, and Oliver away from the castle, handing them towels. “No sand in the office,” he repeated, making sure they cleaned themselves off. The Doctor went back to helping Google_R and _B take the umbrella down, repacking their beach bag, and making sure there was no trace of seven near-identical magical beings existing on the beach. 

He was, perhaps, the only one of the figments that had an idea of how to live, not in hiding, but as a human in plain sight. With that came the responsibility of making sure the others were close to, if not entirely, hidden. Dark liked to think that he carried the secrecy of the office on his shoulders: but when it came to keeping each of them _safe_ , it fell to the Doctor.

“Ready, then?” Wilford looked around at them all, shoulder to shoulder in groups of two. His responsibility—no, his friends. He put his knife down on the sand, the darkness of twilight starting to creep in around the edges. “Let’s go!”

* * *

Wilford poofed them back to the office two at a time: First the Doctor and Bim, then the Googles. They crowded in the living room, Dr. Iplier shaking his head at the amount of sand they’d managed to track in, despite his best efforts. Google_R picked up their bag of towels, starting for their room. It had been a long day, after all, and they were all tired.

“Wilford?”

“Mm?” Wilford barely raised his head, turning his pockets inside out.

“What’re you looking for?” Dr. Iplier squinted, suspicious.

“Aw, I think I left my knife… I’ll be right back!” Wilford made to poof away again, but Dr. Iplier grabbed his arm.

“Will—”

“I know, I know, you told me so—”

“No, it’s not that.” Dr. Iplier released him, but leaned close, confidential. “It’s late, and they patrol the beach at night. Go in the morning instead.” He looked up at Wilford, genuine worry overtaking him.

Wilford squirmed, uncomfortable, and stepped back. “I’ll just be a moment, Doc.”

With that, he was gone, and Dr. Iplier sighed. Sometimes, he wondered if Wilford carried anything at all. 

Dr. Iplier’s question was answered, however, as he stepped into the kitchen. Bim was already there, rummaging in the cabinets for a late-night snack. 

On the table, spilling onto the floor, was their entire sandcastle. 

“ _WILFORD_?!”


End file.
